


strike up the band and make the fireflies dance (so kiss me)

by neverlxnd



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Cute Mark Lee (NCT), Eventual Fluff, Idk what to tag??, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mark Lee (NCT)-centric, No Angst, Reconciliation, and weed yikes, its lowkey cute, its not that spicy, mentions of drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverlxnd/pseuds/neverlxnd
Summary: mark swears he feels the icy pearl against his collarbones when the boy looks at himalternately, mark's late to his band's gig which causes their set to get moved behind #00's, their lead singer a boy with ash-orange hair and a smart mouth





	strike up the band and make the fireflies dance (so kiss me)

**Author's Note:**

> hi lovelies<3 enjoy ily

“ _We have a_ small _problem_.”

 

The bus reeks of urine and sweaty feet but Mark can only think about how he should have known that taking a power nap after class wasn’t such a good idea, because what he has to deal with now is the slight disappointment in Jaemin’s voice and the heavy weight of his leather guitar case digging into his palm while his other hand clutches his phone against his ear.

 

“What do you mean by _small_?” The lady sitting in front of Mark grimaces at his appearance, clearly not a fan of the two tattoos on his arm and the metal rod piercing his eyebrow.

“ _The manager pushed our set back and_ –“

“What?” Mark hisses into the phone, earning another glare from the lady. Mark shrugs.

“ _Why are you acting so surprised, Mark. He pushed it back because our lead guitarist is running late, last time I checked, that’s you.”_

“Alright, alright,” Mark sighs out. “Shit, m’sorry, I thought I had enough time, but it doesn’t matter I’m almost there.”

“ _You better be_ ,” Jaemin sneers with no heat behind his words. “ _Gotta go, Chenle’s trying to sneak free drinks again_ – _Chenle!”_

 

Mark snickers as Jaemin hangs up after briefly hissing, _hurry up_. At the same time he slides his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, the bus abruptly stops and Mark is almost sent flying straight into the lady across from him, (who’s still glaring at him, by the way.) As if the gods were deliberately trying to sabotage Mark’s day, he stretches his neck to look over the people in front of him to see the jam-packed traffic ahead of them. With a fleeting gaze towards the digital clock on the station announcer, Mark tightens his hold on his guitar case and squeezes past the patrons until he’s mumbling a _thanks_ to the bus driver and diving into the fresh, less crowded, summer breeze. It still smells like feet, but Mark speaks gratitude for getting off the stuffy bus.

It’s not too dark out, the sky a deep navy blue when Mark makes it to the venue, slightly sweaty and out of breath. As soon as he steps foot into the minuscule theatre he’s hit with a wave of humidity and bass in his ears. Mark is no stranger to playing in small and dingy venues, he would actually proudly say it’s a step-up from when their band used to play openly in Mark’s parents’ garage. The theatre is strangely packed tonight, since Mark’s started getting gigs in venues, he’s never been to one that has been this jammed. The sea of bodies smothering and careless, Mark’s always been able to slide past people with his guitar case, but this time he finds himself raising his voice over the live music and squeezing past the intoxicated bodies.

 

“You made it.”

 

Mark looks for Jaemin’s voice, rolling his eyes when he finds the black-haired boy leaning against the wall.

 

“Barely,” Mark sighs, setting his case down to clench and unclench his hand. “There was a shit ton of traffic and I hopped off the bus and ran the rest.”

“Mark Lee, so dedicated,” Jaemin smiles, laying his hand over his heart.

 

Before Mark can respond, Chenle appears by his side and by the frown on his lips, Mark already knows what’s coming.

 

“Nana didn’t let me have drinks,” Chenle crosses his arms. Mark’s reminded of a toddler.

“You’re literally twelve, you shouldn’t even be in _here_ ,” Jaemin says with a finger pointing to the battered wooden floor for emphasis.

Chenle glares and uncrosses his arms. “I’m _seventeen_ , you old man. Jealousy is a disease, bitch.”

 

Mark looks up to the ceiling as a silent prayer as Jaemin and Chenle step closer to each other with a mock fiery expression in their eyes.

 

“Listen _Zhong_ –“

Mark raises his hands, “before you guys pretend to choke each other out, can you tell me when we’re playing next?”

 

The two boys avert their eyes to Mark before looking back at each other and shrugging.

 

“The manager said we’re on after #00, whoever that is,” Chenle says, Jaemin nodding along in agreement as if he wasn’t just about to strangle the younger seconds prior.

“Why don’t I just ask that brick wall over there, I’m sure they’ll be of more help,” Mark numbly points.

“Or you can actually _ask_ the band,” Chenle snickers.

“But you said–“

“I said I didn’t know who they are, doesn’t mean I don’t know _where_ they are.”

 

Mark can understand why Jaemin would want to suddenly choke him out. He runs a hand down the side of his face.

 

“Just–where are they.”

 

Chenle nods his head in the direction behind Mark, he follows the younger’s gaze and his eyes dance around the venue before settling on a group of four boys tucked away in the corner.

 

“I’ll go ask,” Mark mumbles, turning on his heel. “Don’t kill each other.”

 

Despite Mark’s warning, he’s not even three feet away before he can hear Chenle yelling, followed by Jaemin cackling. It’s dark in the theatre so Mark can’t make out the four boy’s appearances until he’s two feet away. A boy with icy blonde hair looks Mark’s way before elbowing the boy beside him and nodding in his direction. Mark ignores the urge to roll his eyes and closes the distance until he’s standing in front of the four boys.

 

“Hey,” Mark strains his voice over the music.

 

He’s not specific in who he’s talking to, but he assumes the boy with ash-orange hair is the leader since he’s the first one to turn around and eye him. The boy is smaller than he is, their difference in height not that big of a gap. The boy opens his mouth to speak, but Mark must be too focused on the various necklaces dangling from his neck, specifically one, Mark isn’t sure why but he’s hit with something close to nostalgia when he looks at the silver lining wrapped around a pearl. He figures he must not have heard him right.

 

“What?” Mark furrows his eyebrows and leans closer.

“I have a boyfriend,” the orange-haired boy says before turning back around to his band mates.

 

In any other circumstance, Mark would have most likely thrown a punch by now, but since he’s already having a bad day (and because he hasn’t had a single drop of liquor tonight), he dismisses the boys’ rudeness and taps him on the shoulder to gain his attention. The boy lets out an audible sigh before cocking his head at Mark to which Mark raises his eyebrow.

 

“Are you guys that double zero band?” Mark asks.

 

Mark can see one of the boys behind the leader snicker before the orange-haired boy glares at him and looks back at Mark.

 

“It’s #00, _skinny jeans_ ,” the boy chaffs. “And it depends who’s asking.”

“Listen, I admire your confidence,” the boy purses his lips. “But I’m not here to ask for your number, I’m here because my band is playing after you and I need to know when we’re up, asshole.”

 

Instead of the glare Mark was preparing himself for, he gets a scoff followed by a smile from the boy. He whispers something to his bandmember beside him and turns back to Mark.

 

“Okay, _asshole_ , yes we’re #00. I _could_ tell you when we’re playing,” the boy hums, tapping the plastic red cup in his hand. “But that would be too nice.”

 

Mark bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something he would regret, _especially_ in such a tightknit industry of underground bands. Instead of his initial response ( _fuck you_ ) Mark rolls his eyes and decides to let it go, mumbling a _whatever_ before turning around to leave. Before he’s out of earshot, he hears the boy yell over the crowd of people and music, “did I say something wrong!”

 

Mark pretends he didn’t hear it and continues walking with clenched fists.

 

“How’d it go?” Jaemin asks when Mark returns.

Mark runs a hand through his jet-black hair, “going to the bar.”

Jaemin purses his lips. “Not well, I presume.”

 

There’s no other way around ignoring Mark’s slight anger towards the orange-haired boy. The thing is Mark knows it shouldn’t bother him, he’s met a lot of assholes since starting this band with Jaemin and Chenle, so a boy with a smart mouth and pretty eyes should be a shoulder brush. Mark has his drink in his hand, his eyes dark and filled with intensity as he stares over the edge of his cup at the band across the room. Beside him, Jaemin’s eyes are burning holes into the side of his face, a smirk playing on his lips.

 

“You stare any harder, he’s probably going to come over here and punch you until your ass is knocked out.”

 

Mark ignores Jaemin, choosing to turn on his selective hearing and conjuring up different scenarios that could’ve happened instead of Mark wanting to take the higher road. Yet.

 

“I mean, who the fuck says _that_ when meeting someone,” Mark grumbles, leaning his back against the stack of broken speakers.

Chenle returns from the bathroom, drying his hands on the front of his floral button-up. “Is Mark still moping about the double zero guy?”

Mark finally cuts his gaze from the boy to glare at Chenle, “no,” he says at the same time Jaemin says, “yes.”

“I’m not moping! I’m just angry, what kind of asshole–“

“Mark, we’re all underground grungy rock bands, who _isn’t_ an asshole,” Jaemin clarifies while twirling one of his drumsticks around his fingers. Chenle nods with an assertive finger pointing.

“Yeah, but–“

“Why does it matter anyway,” Chenle makes a face that Mark can easily make out as ‘ _big deal_ ’. “It’s not like you guys _know_ each other.”

“That’s exactly the point!” Mark throws his hands up, exclaiming.

Jaemin taps the tip of his stick on his chin before pointing it at Mark accusingly, “ _or_ is it because you finally met someone who isn’t in immediate infatuation with you?”

Mark takes offense to that. It’s not like he was _expecting_ the boy to flirt with him, he’s humble about his looks, he just wants _respect_ for christ’s sake.

“I don’t care about that stuff, Jaem.”

“I call bullshit,” Jaemin and Chenle say at the same time. The two point at each other excitedly. “Jinx!”

 

Okay, so _maybe_ Mark used to care about that stuff, but that’s in the past. He barely recalls making out with a nameless face some time ago, one he can’t seem to forget but at the same time can’t remember, but that’s probably why Mark wasn’t interested in hooking up with strangers anymore. Mark rolls his eyes and rubs his temples. Mostly an attempt to numb his thoughts of wanting the ground to swallow him immediately, but because he realizes Chenle is right. He shouldn’t be stressing over someone he doesn’t even know, _especially_ if they play in a band Mark’s never even heard of.

 

 

“It’s been fifteen minutes already, when are they going on?” Jaemin asks.

 

As soon as Jaemin finishes his sentence, there’s feedback screeching on the microphone through the speakers and Mark looks towards the stage. Small gigs always call for dingy lighting and stages too small for most bands. Even though Mark feels his skin grow hot with annoyance when he looks at the boy on stage, he can’t not admit that the ugly yellow lighting from the poor stage lights doesn’t look bad on him.

 

“Good evening everyone, I’m Haechan,” the boy smiles at the applause that surprises Mark before continuing. “You guys are already familiar with us, right?”

 

The crowd cheers and raise their cups in agreement, Mark briefly wonders just how popular the boy’s band is.

 

“Well, if you’re not, we’re #00. How ‘bout we kick off this set with a classic?”

 

The crowd cheers once again, the alcohol sloshing around in their cups as they jump in place. The song starts off slow with staccato guitar chords, and Mark almost laughs because _of course, they’re a ballad band_ , but then the drums kick in and the once serene melody of guitar strings switches gears and slides into a warm stream of notes eased of drums and bass.

Mark is almost impressed with how immersed the crowd is– _almost_. Had he met Haechan differently, he would nod his head along to the swaying beat, but he’s petty _sue him_. He’s about to feign disinterest, in case Haechan happens to look his way, but then there’s a soft voice lined with honey and serenity singing along with the guitar. Mark looks back to the stage where Haechan is standing in the center, the microphone stand gripped in between both his hands while the boy taps his heel to the song. Mark savours the way Haechan closes his eyes underneath the too warm stage lights and loses himself in the music, letting his head lull to the side on pauses where he doesn’t sing. Mark is so lost in the way Haechan’s voice curls around the guitars and drums, like enveloping a warm blanket around your shoulders, that he doesn’t notice Haechan is staring at him now. Through the nameless strangers in the crowd, Haechan keeps eye contact with Mark while singing the lyrics into the mic, soft and sweet. Mark almost forgets that he doesn’t like the boy, that he’s a jerk and obviously keeps himself and his band on a pedestal. But the way Haechan’s looking at him with a coy smile and soft eyes has Mark wondering if they’re two completely different people. That thought immediately crashes when Haechan winks at him before moving his eyes to aimlessly look around the crowd, leaving Mark confused with his mouth slightly hanging open. Then, Mark catches the glint of Haechan’s silver ring in the angle of the lights, and suddenly Mark thinks he’s not drunk enough to try and figure out the memory tugging at the edge of his brain.

Before he knows it, the song finishes, and Mark snaps his eyes away from the stage to look to the side where the bar is. He ignores the sudden inkling of someone’s eyes and chooses to turn to Jaemin and Chenle.

 

“Bathroom,” he mutters.

 

Mark’s not sure how long he stays in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror and questioning himself if he should be angry at himself for indulging in the boy’s looks and voice, or if he should be angry at Haechan for being such a douche with a pretty face. He catches the end of #00’s set when he comes out of the bathroom, leaning against Jaemin and throwing his arm over his shoulder.

 

“Where the fuck did you go?” Jaemin asks, keeping his gaze on the stage where #00 is talking to the crowd.

“I already told you,” Mark mumbles.

“Long bathroom break,” Jaemin smirks, as if he was trying to imply something else.

Mark shoves the younger’s shoulder. “Shut the fuck up, perv. C’mon, we need to set up, they’re almost finished.”

 

Mark grabs his guitar, Jaemin and Chenle trail behind him as they weave through the crowd towards backstage. They showcase their wristbands to the bouncer, to which he nods and lets them pass. Mark’s adjusting the strap of his guitar around his shoulder when he notices Haechan is still talking. He rolls his eyes, hoping that maybe if he does it enough times, he can ignore his thoughts about the boy.

 

“That’s the seventh time I’ve seen you roll your eyes tonight, you do it anymore they’ll stay back there,” Jaemin tsks.

“Hopefully,” Mark mutters.

 

Mark hops in place, hyping himself up and puffing out breaths. They’ve been together for two years and performing for one, but Mark doesn’t think he’ll ever get rid of the nerves that always seem to sneak up on him before they perform. But Mark’s not one to let his fears and nerves get the best of him, so he does what he always does.

 

“Alright,” Mark takes a breath, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s have a good set. Jaemin, play hard and watch your timing, Chenle, sing well and don’t strain your voice.”

“Don’t forget our songs, Haechan’s watching,” Chenle teases.

Mark turns around towards the younger, “one more word, you won’t be able to _sing_ our songs.”

 

Chenle raises his hands, looking at Jaemin with raised eyebrows.

 

“ _We follow protocol here, so I’m supposed to introduce the next band._ ”

 _Finally_ , Mark sighs to himself.

“ _Despite it being eleven in the evening, make some noise for AM_.”

 

Mark supposes there are worse things Haechan could have said. The crowd cheers, granted not as loud as they did for #00, but it still calms the nerves in Mark’s stomach as they walk on stage. He underestimated the quality of the stage lights, not expecting the first harsh rays when he steps in front of the mic.

 

“Thanks for the introduction,” Mark tries his best to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “We’re AM. Normally we play our own songs first, but tonight we’re gonna do something a little differently. Here’s our cover of Kiss Me.”

 

Mark doesn’t have to turn around to signal Jaemin to start counting. Instead, he begins to tap his foot rhythmically three times before he hears Jaemin knock his drumsticks three times. He begins to strum his guitar, playing the simple chords, Jaemin taps into the beat.

 

_Kiss me, out of the bearded barley_

_Nightly, beside the green, green grass_

 

Mark nods along to Chenle singing, tapping his foot to keep pace. As soon as the first six counts play, Mark presses harder on the strings, letting the sound flow naturally along to the harder kick to Jaemin’s drumming.

 

_Kiss me, beneath the milky twilight_

_Lead me out on the moonlit floor_

 

Throughout the whole song, Mark keeps his head down, making sure to keep beat and nodding along to the song. As the last chorus starts, Mark decides to lift his head and look into the crowd. He doesn’t know why, but the first thing his eyes shoot towards is the back corner. He’s still strumming, too much practice and years of playing to let him forget chords, but his feels his breath stutter when he finds Haechan watching him, drink in his hand again.

It shouldn’t be surprising to find that he’s actually watching Mark, he would have thought Haechan would be pettier than him and pretend he doesn’t exist. But Haechan runs a hand through his orange fringe, nodding along to the song. That nostalgic feeling wraps around his head, enveloping everything from the ends of his hair to his feet. He chimes back into the song when he hears Chenle sing an extra chorus, which means Mark forget to switch chords.

He curses himself out before breaking eye contact with Haechan and hoping that the boy isn’t laughing, although the teasing will probably be inevitable if they ever meet again after this. Mark ignores Chenle’s knowing gaze and switches chords at the right time and decides it’s probably better for him to keep his gaze low on the audience in front of him.

 

_Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance_

_Silver moon’s sparkling_

_So kiss me_

 

Jaemin continues for three more counts before letting the last cymbal chime, followed by the drag of Mark’s last guitar chord. Mark smiles at Chenle and Jaemin, throwing them a wink before turning back to the crowd.

 

“I know bands don’t normally play covers first at gigs, but we revised it a while ago and this was the perfect opportunity to play it,” Mark grins at the voice who yells something along the lines of ‘ _hell yeah_ ’. “Anyways, enough wasting time. Sing along if you know it.”

 

 

Winding down after playing a gig is always hard. Mark’s always feeling high, finding it difficult to dismiss the adrenaline flowing through his body. Jaemin and Chenle aren’t any better, both boys close to bouncing off the walls. When Mark throws the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and grips the neck, he hops in place while laughing with Jaemin and Chenle.

 

“I think that one was our best crowd,” Jaemin grins.

Mark nods as he puts his guitar back in its’ case, “I think so too. Should we start our sets off with covers now?”

 

Chenle nods, Jaemin agreeing too.

 

“You know what else we should do,” Chenle says with a devilish tilt to his smile.

Mark and Jaemin exchange a gaze before turning back to Chenle. “What?”

“Go out and celebrate!” Chenle chirps, thrusting his fists in the air.

 

The three boys pack up their things, (Chenle and Mark while Jaemin stuffs his drumsticks in his backpack) and begin to make their way to the parking lot. Mark’s still sweaty from jumping on stage and playing, the ends of his hair close to dripping and his muscle tee sticking to his back. Jaemin pulls out a pair of car keys and Mark double takes.

 

“Woah woah _woah_ ,” Mark stops in his tracks, holding his hand out. Jaemin raises a curious brow. “You have a _car_?”

Jaemin nods. “Got it a couple days ago. Can’t thrive in a band if we keep having to take the bus everywhere.”

“And you didn’t bother to pick me up?” Mark frowns. “We could have played earlier.”

Jaemin shrugs. “Not my fault you don’t know how to answer your phone.”

Chenle snickers, “or the door.”

 

Mark rolls his eyes, but nonetheless follows the two boys.

The diner they pull up to is a new one, a shitty yellow restaurant that Mark’s never seen before. But that’s probably because he hasn’t been to this area of the city, save for that one party Jaemin _swore_ would be fun. Chenle doesn’t wait for the two, choosing to race inside by himself.

 

“You’re sure he’s seventeen?” Jaemin pointedly makes a face of disbelief.

 

The diner is just as the outside is; yellow. The walls are coated in mustard chipped painting here and there, framed photos of employees and famous people hanging. Mark kind of grows accustom to the diner when he sees the wide smile on Chenle’s face when he spots him sitting in a corner seat.

 

“ _Why_ did you pick this place?” Jaemin asks with a grimace on his face.

 

Mark takes a napkin from the dispenser and quickly runs it across the table to get rid of the crumbs and… is that sauce or juice?

 

“It’s not that bad,” Mark tries to reason, not sure if he was trying to settle his own wariness or Jaemin’s. “Besides, Chenle’s eaten here before and he’s alive.” Mark turns to Chenle. “Right?”

 

Chenle leans down in the leather seat, slumping his body as if he could disappear from Mark’s question.

 

“Right, _Chenle_ ,” Mark repeats.

 

Before Mark can try to stop Jaemin from reaching across the table to strangle Chenle, there’s a chorus of laughter coming from one of the tables near the front doors. The three boys look in the direction and Mark feels his stomach sink.

How the _fuck_ did they pick the same diner as #00?

Mark turns back around to look at Chenle, who picked the diner, and narrows his eyes. Mark removes his hand from Jaemin’s chest from when he previously tried to stop the younger. Chenle widens his eyes.

While Mark watches Jaemin half on top of the table, hands gripping the collar of Chenle’s shirt, he doesn’t notice a presence beside him. Chenle yelps, shoving Jaemin away and leaning his face away.

 

“Are you stalking me?”

 

All three boys turn around to look at the owner of the voice, Mark being the most shocked when he sees Haechan with a devilish smirk, leaning his elbow against the back of Mark’s seat.

 

“Huh?” Is all Mark can muster.

 

Under the dingy lights in the theatre, it was hard to make out Haechan’s pink and puffy heart-shaped lips, it was easy to miss the monet of browns and reds blended on his eyelids.

 

“I’m starting to think that maybe you _did_ want my number,” Haechan grins. “Is this what you usually do when someone rejects you?”

 

Mark looks to Jaemin and Chenle for help, for some sort of backup but he only finds them to be giggling, holding onto each other while they watch this unfold. Mark suddenly doesn’t regret taking that power nap.

 

“You know _what_ ,” Mark starts, meaning to stand, but Jaemin quickly sits down beside him and covers his mouth.

“Mark doesn’t take rejection well,” Jaemin dramatically sighs with a shake of his head as Mark furrows his eyebrows and fights against his hand. “But I’m sure you’d like him if you sat down and had a proper talk. Bring your band over.”

 

Mark looks seconds away from biting Jaemin’s head off while Haechan only chuckles and nods.

 

“I like you,” Haechan points at Jaemin. “I’ll be back.”

The second Jaemin removes his hand from Mark’s mouth he shoves the younger’s shoulder. “Why the fuck did you say that, you know it’s not true!” Mark wipes his hand across where Jaemin’s clammy hand was around his mouth.

‘It’s fun to rile you,” Jaemin shrugs with a snicker. “Mark, we’ve been in this business for two years, I’m tired of sitting by ourselves at festivals, don’t you want to make _friends_?”

“Not with him!” Mark exclaims.

The four boys arrive at the same time Jaemin says, “too bad.”

 

The whole time seven boys squeeze in the booth, Haechan choosing to make Mark’s life harder by sitting next to him, Mark’s shootings daggers at Jaemin harder than the time he bleached his hair when he fell asleep. Chenle clears his throat to get the two band’s attention.

 

“I don’t know if you guys stayed to watch our set, but we’re AM. I’m Chenle, I play acoustic and I’m the lead vocalist. That’s Jaemin, he’s on drums, and the one glaring at Jaemin is Mark, he’s our lead guitarist.”

 

The four boys turn to look at Mark, who sighs and lowers his gaze to the table. The rest of them do introductions too.

 

“I’m Jeno, I’m on bass.”

“Renjun, I’m the guitarist and singer.”

“My name’s Jisung, I’m on drums.”

“And I’m the lead vocalist, Haechan.”

 

The three boys of #00 roll their eyes, as if they’ve heard this already.

 

“ _Nobody_ calls you that, Hyuck,” Jeno mumbles.

“The crowd seemed to love it,” Haechan–Hyuck? says with a grin.

“That’s because they haven’t known you half their life,” Renjun playfully rolls his eyes.

“So you guys are close?” Jaemin asks, gesturing to their band.

Jeno nods, “we’ve all known each other since middle school. Except–“

“Me,” Jisung pipes in. “They like to remind me I’m the youngest, not to mention the only one who _isn’t_ born in 2000.”

“So _that’s_ where your name comes from!” Chenle chirps, earning a nod from Haechan.

“Hey! I’m born in 2000!” Jaemin smiles, before leaning his chest over the table. “Let’s switch members.”

 

Haechan laughs, throwing his head back, while Jisung aggressively nods.

 

“Please,” Jisung’s eyes carry sorrow and _heavy_ terror.

Renjun rolls his eyes, throwing his arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “Don’t be such a little shit, we’re only joking. As if we would give up our baby Jisung.”

 

Jisung turns his head to escape Renjun’s pinching fingers, and Mark just wants to go home and sleep. Maybe get drunk and pass out on his kitchen floor again. He’s in the middle of planning out his drunk endeavors when Haechan opens his mouth.

 

“Lead guitarist, huh.”

 

Mark looks away from the edge of the wooden chipped table to face Haechan, an action he didn’t know would make him feel suddenly conscious of _everything_ about himself. Was his hair still dripping with sweat? Did he smell?

 

“Yeah,” Mark replies lowly.

 

Haechan nods, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser to play with it in his fingers.

 

“You know, I was joking with you earlier. I didn’t think you _actually_ came to ask for my number,” Haechan folds a corner of the napkin over.

Mark scoffs, “so torture and pissing people off is a hobby of yours?”

 Haechan nods with a grin.

 “You and Jaemin would get along great,” is all Mark says.

 

Before Haechan can respond, a waitress comes to take their orders.

 

“This place should have better reviews, their food is amazing,” Jeno complains.

“Have you _seen_ this place?” Jaemin raises his eyebrows. “The appearance doesn’t really give off five-star restaurant vibes.”

Jeno shakes his head, “that’s _exactly_ why you shouldn’t judge a book by its’ cover.”

Mark cocks his head confused, “I’m not sure if that phrase quite fits in this scenario.”

 

When their food arrives, they end up disregarding boundaries and share their meals, hands digging into each other’s plates and passing around their drinks.

 

“You know,” Chenle hums. “Now that I think about it, I swear I’ve seen you guys around somewhere.”

“Well, not to toot our own horn, but we’re not an unpopular band,” Jisung mumbles around his straw.

“Neither are we,” Chenle fires. “But I mean, outside of music and gigs. You guys go to any parties?”

 

Renjun throws his head back in laughter, covering his mouth when he remembers he has food in his mouth.

 

“Is that even a question?” Renjun asks, rolling up his sleeves to reveal a faded tattoo on his forearm. “I got a stick-and-poke when I went to a party two months ago.”

Jaemin reaches out to touch the tattoo, tracing the shaky and uneven lines of the crescent. “That’s fucking ugly.”

 

The group erupts in laughter, Mark having to take a sip of his drink to ease his dehydration. Haechan shifts in his seat, throwing off his flannel from the too warm diner. Mark eyes his grey washed-out tee, raising his eyebrows when he notices it has their own #00 logo on it.

 

Haechan shrugs, “gotta promote.”

 

Mark chuckles, slipping his arm around the back of the leather of the booth behind Haechan’s head. He runs his hand through his still damp hair, frowning when a couple strands flop back onto his forehead.

 

“You know what Chenle said about meeting before?” Haechan asks in a quiet voice.

 

Mark looks around the table at the others, finding that both bands are in an animated conversation, barely paying attention to the two boys. He looks back at Haechan and nods.

 

“I think he’s right,” Haechan shifts so he’s facing Mark. “I get this feeling like I’ve seen you, your band before.”

Mark shrugs, “we play at a lot of festivals, it’s a possibility.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, “that’s not what I mean. I feel like I’ve seen you guys at a party before, or something.”

 

Mark stays quiet in favour of racking his brain for any sort of memory of the four boys. He tries, he really does but he’s pretty sure there hasn’t been a party that he went to where he remembers meeting new people. Just as Mark opens his mouth, Haechan beats him to it.

 

“You’re right, I’m sure it was at a gig–“

“Hyuck, are you listening to this! _Donghyuck!_ ”

 

As if something snapped in Mark’s memory upon hearing _d_ _onghyuck_ , Haechan’s face clouds his mind. It’s cramped and blurred, the edges lining with black and he’s barely holding the memory but Haechan is _definitely_ there. Loud music and a fire path created by Haechan’s–Donghyuck’s hands in his hair, on his neck, his lips.

 

“Mark,” he hears. “Mark, are you okay?”

 

Mark tunes back into the conversation, suddenly feeling too hot for the amount of attention on him.

 

“What?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, “they asked to split the bill. We’re going to go outside for a smoke.”

 

Mark numbly nods, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket while Donghyuck does the same. Mark takes notice in the silver rings adorning Donghyuck’s fingers, he briefly remembers the hard metal gliding down his arms from that party. He trails his eyes up, stopping at the pearl necklace, staring at it, he remembers feeling the icy cold of the pearl against his collarbones from when Donghyuck had been leaning over him on some stranger’s bed, kissing the life out of him.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Mark mutters.

 

The rest of the boys are outside now and Donghyuck’s moves out of the booth and waits with his debit card.

 

“You good?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrow.

Mark nods, “yeah, I thought I didn’t have my card.”

 

Once the bill is evenly payed for by both boys, Mark and Donghyuck walk outside to meet the others in front.

 

“Please!”

 

Mark catches the end of Chenle’s pleading, seeing his tiny hands clasped in a prayer.

 

“I won’t even smoke it, I’ll just stand there,” Chenle pouts.

Jaemin shakes his head, “nope, you can still breathe it in.”

“What’s going on?” Mark asks, pushing his hair off his forehead.

“Jeno and Renjun are trying to go smoke, Chenle wants to go but like hell he’s going,” Jaemin crosses his arms.

“What about you?” Donghyuck asks, pointing his finger at Jaemin.

“I’m driving.”

 

Mark sighs and Donghyuck tugs on the hem of his muscle tee. Mark turns to him confused, only to see Donghyuck raising his eyebrows and subtly nodding his head in the direction of Jeno and Renjun. Mark wants to think Donghyuck just wants Chenle to not feel left out, and _not_ that he wants to be alone with him.

 

Mark turns back to Jaemin, “it should be fine. He’s not smoking it, right?”

Jaemin nods.

“Then it’s fine,” Mark nods.

 

Despite Jaemin rolling his eyes, he drags Chenle towards Jeno, Renjun and Jisung, leaving Mark and Donghyuck by the doors of the diner. Mark turns back to Donghyuck to ask why he wanted him to do that when he gets tugged around the corner of the diner. Mark feels the hard cement of the diner dig into his back when he gets pushed against it, Donghyuck’s palms keeping him there.

Before Mark can even open his mouth, Donghyuck leans forward and connects their lips. It’s fiery and fast-paced, Donghyuck already tracing the line of Mark’s lips with his tongue. Mark can’t _breathe_ , yet he kisses back with just as much pressure, pressing Donghyuck closer to him with his palm on the bottom of his back. Mark licks into his mouth, letting himself to indulge in the whimpers that leave Donghyck’s mouth when he nips at the already plump lips.

 

“I thought,” Mark pants out, chuckling to himself when Donghyuck connects their lips before he can finish his sentence. “–you had a boyfriend?”

 

Donghyuck pulls back to smile at Mark before leaning back in and leaving open-mouthed kisses along his jaw.

 

“I don’t,” Donghyuck breathes out. “I just tell people that. Keeps them away.”

Mark snorts, gasping when Donghyuck begins to nip at his neck. “What changed?”

Mark grips Donghyuck’s waist harder as he feels the younger blow cool air on the blossoming bruise he left.

“You remembered me.”

 

Mark breathes outs a laugh through his nose, letting his head fall to the ground with a smile before looking back at Donghyuck and nodding.

 

“What gave it away?” Donghyuck asks, not noticing when or how Mark and he ended up holding hands.

“Your name,” Mark says. “I remembered some things when Jeno said your name. You?”

“Your tattoo,” Donghyuck mumbles, slipping his hand up Mark’s arm to poke at the small tattoo etched behind his ear.

Myself.

“I remember complimenting it and kissing you there.”

 

Mark doesn’t know why, but he feels his cheeks heat up, as if he didn’t just have his tongue down Donghyuck’s throat. The air around them is quiet, in the distance they can hear Renjun’s laugh followed by Jisung whining. He feels Donghyuck play with the tips of his fingers, lightly at first but then Mark takes a breath and intertwines their fingers. He looks up at Donghyuck to see the younger smiling back at him. Donghyuck leans in to press their lips together again, softer and sweeter this time. Mark relishes in the sigh that Donghyuck breathes out before he pulls back, and Mark almost chases his lips.

 

“We should probably go see them before their high asses think we got abducted,” Donghyuck chuckles, taking his hand back. Mark misses the warmth.

“Does anyone _actually_ believe in aliens?” Mark asks, following Donghyuck around to where their friends are.

Donghyuck snorts, “Renjun does.”

“You’re kidding,” Mark snickers when Donghyuck shakes his head, confirming his statement.

 

Although they aren’t holding hands anymore, Donghyuck lets his pinky brush Mark’s when they join their friends, momentarily connecting them before announcing their arrival.

Mark hopes that Jaemin and Chenle don’t see how swollen his lips are, or the flushed tint on his cheeks, he would _never_ live that down. Right next to the time when Mark accidentally set his pants on fire.

 

“Where the fuck were you,” Jeno mumbles, taking the almost finished joint from Renjun’s fingers to which Renjun pouts.

“Had to pay the bill, dumbass.” Donghyuck subtly leans into Mark’s side.

 

Mark takes a quick glance at Jaemin and Chenle, noticing that both boys are talking with Jisung and Renjun. He takes a breath before wrapping his arm behind Donghyuck and slipping his fingers in the back pocket of Donghyuck’s jeans. When Mark chances a glance at Donghyuck, he finds the younger smiling, followed by a gentle but playful shove with his shoulder and Mark moves his hand to settle on his back instead.

Mark looks around at his new friend group and briefly at Donghyuck, a giddy feeling taking over his chest. He’s suddenly glad he took that power nap for he had finally found that pearl necklace and orange-hair that he’s been absentmindedly dreaming about since kissing him that first night.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my drafts for so long and i wrote a short snippet of it on my twt but it was renmin, ive been wanting to write a band au for awhile :L  
> anygays, i hope you enjoyed it and in case you were wondering, the song #00 played was cry baby by the neighbourhood and the song am played was new found glory's punk goes pop cover of kiss me<3 this was really just a homage to my fellow emo's  
> also there might /possibly/ be a sequel to this :L maybe on their first meeting??idk 
> 
> ill leave my [cc](https://www.curiouscat.me/vfluttering)  
> ilyily tysm for reading, mwah<33


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